Gravity (The Taking)

by Melissa West

  Marique turns to me. “We believe xylem operates very much like an organ would. It moves, and it has a pulse to it that is unlike anything we have ever seen. Before, we compared it to water in the human body, but it’s nothing like water. It’s almost…” She glances at Cybil as though embarrassed of what she’s about to say and finally whispers, “Magical.”

  Cybil gives a curt laugh. “You Chemists will romanticize anything. It’s not magical. It’s deadly. That liquid evolution is what prevents us from killing them. Remember our goal, Marique.” Then she pulls me away, her head shaking. “I can’t blame them for being fascinated—that’s what they do—but as Engineers, we don’t admire its strengths; we look for its weaknesses. Which brings us here.” She motions to the split back wall and the exposed glass testing chamber she revealed to me the first time we came here. But as I edge to the glass, I realize it looks less like a testing chamber and more like a torture chamber.

  The Chemists stare into it with intensity, and then one—a short guy with black hair and olive skin—presses a button on the outside of the glass and speaks into an intercom. “Admit subject one.”

  I watch as two Operatives bring in a male Ancient. He wears nothing beyond a small cloth that covers his private region, and the rest of his body looks frail and broken. The five Chemists around me begin jotting down notes on their notes tablets. The same Chemist who pressed the intercom walks over to a keypad on the right side of the glass. The door inside the chamber closes behind the Operatives, and the Ancient is left alone in the huge two-story room, visibly shaking. His head twitches in nervousness, and then he darts from one side to the other, hitting each wall, before latching onto the glass we’re looking through like a frog to a tree. He tilts his head to the side and screams out, but no sound releases.

  Cybil steps up beside me. “Meet Ryden. He is a longtime friend of the Chemists’ cause. Ignorance is our greatest weakness, which we must rectify if we hope to succeed.”

  “Succeed in…?” I ask, probing Cybil to tell me what I need to know but keeping my eyes on Ryden. He doesn’t look like a spy, but Cybil said all their test subjects were Latents. This guy looks like he should be in the croplands working fields, not risking his life to learn information about humans. Something doesn’t add up.

  “Destroying them, of course,” Cybil says.

  “Of course, but what’s the plan, the strategy?” I hope I don’t sound as desperate as I feel.

  She grins. “I like where your head is, but we haven’t decided our final strategy just yet. I will tell you that it hinges on this research.”

  “Speaking of, where did you get him?”

  She looks away, uncomfortable, avoiding the question for far too long to respond with the truth. She forgets who trained me. “I told you, they’re Latents,” she says.

  Well, that’s a lie. Either she doesn’t know or she doesn’t want to tell me.

  My eyes drift to the Chemist beside the keypad. He punches in a series of codes and then walks back over, biting his nails as he comes.

  “What are they doing?” I ask Cybil.

  “Electrical therapy,” she replies.

  At that moment a bell sounds from within the testing chamber. The Ancient spasms and jerks, his body jumping from within itself like his organs want to escape. A bell sounds again, and his body relaxes. He falls to the ground. The Chemists around me jot down more notes, and from the looks on their faces they seem pleased with the results.

  Cybil leads me away from the glass. “This lab focuses on airborne tactics that affect the Ancients without harming humans. The goal is to create a weapon that will hit without them knowing. So they breach our surface and bam!” She slams her fist into her hand. “They’re dead. The problem is that xylem heals them within moments. So our strategy is to come up with something that interacts with xylem, changing it.”

  I nod, wondering if I should ask the question that hasn’t left my mind since we started all of this. “Cybil,” I say with hesitation. “I thought they want to join us once they’re strong enough. I thought they wanted a peaceful coexistence. So, I guess what I’m wondering is why are we trying to kill them?”

  “Two such different species can’t coexist on one planet. It’s survival of the fittest and we must survive.”

  She walks back, and I follow as a giant hole spreads in my chest. Everything we’ve been taught about the Ancients, all of it, has led up to this moment. They want to push fear into us so we don’t pity the species we plan to annihilate. I glance through the glass. Ryden cowers in a corner, his eyes jerking from person to person before landing on me. He studies me, and then mouths a single word—help.

  CHAPTER 21

  I cut through the woods behind my house, jumping over thorny overgrowth and swiping away spiderwebs. I messaged Jackson the moment I left training, hoping I have enough information to appease Zeus. But even if I do, won’t Dad just come up with a new strategy? I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

  When I reach the Unity Tree, the sun has set and the forest is dark. Wind blows through the trees, causing the fallen leaves to scatter. I kneel down in front of the tree and stare into its hollow center, aching to inch closer, feeling like I belong there, not here.

  I reach out a shaky hand. My fingers disappear into the triangular opening and warmth crawls through my fingertips, down my hand, up my forearm. I jerk back, but the ghost of the sensation lingers on my arm. My heart races in my chest. Then I hear something from within the tree. I stand slowly as whispers echo in the trees. They call to me as though they know me, as though I’m one of them. I close my eyes, allowing the whispers to grow closer, swirling with the wind. I can’t understand what they’re saying, but I can feel the passion of their words in my chest and I want more than anything to join them.

  The whispers blend with the beats of tree limbs around me, each sound pushing me further from reality. My arms latch on to an oak tree behind me, clinging to the bark, and within moments, I’m to the top of the tree, peering down before a single breath escapes me. The whispers and beats continue below, harmonious pounding, and then the forest goes still, the sky peaceful. I feel a sense of belonging and comfort unlike anything I’ve felt before. I stare down at the forest floor and back up to the sky. With one final breath, I lift my arms out to my sides and swan-dive into the open clearing. Air rushes past my ears, cold and inviting. I should be terrified, but I’m exhilarated, electricity in my veins instead of blood. I flip in the air and land easily on my feet. Laughter bursts from my mouth.

  “Ari…” a voice says from behind me. I freeze, cringing as I turn to see Gretchen, her mouth wide open, her eyes round with fear. “I saw you come here… I came to check. I—I…”

  “Gretch, stop,” I say as she backs away. “This isn’t… I’m not…” I stare at her and she stares back, but not like my best friend; she stares as though she’s seeing me for the first time. Tears well in my eyes, and before I know it I’m sobbing uncontrollably. The weight of what I just did, Gretchen seeing, Ryden, the war strategy, Jackson, everything culminates in my mind and I can’t take any more. I feel like years, decades, have passed since my life had any sense of normalcy. I want a normal life. I want to be normal.

  But I know I’m not. I feel it in my gut, yet I have no clue what’s happening to me. Am I becoming one of them or am I already one of them? I don’t know. I know nothing. I am nothing. Everything in my life feels foolish now. If I’m half of each species, I can’t choose which part of me is real, which part gets to live. It’s too much. I break into a fresh round of sobs and feel a hand press against my back.

  “Ari, talk to me,” Gretchen says. “I won’t judge. I promise. Talk to me.”

  I glance up at her, my eyes burning from the tears, and lean back against the large oak tree I just dove from. Gretchen sits in front of me, no judgment, no pitying expression. I can trust her; I’m sure of it. I draw a shaky breath and release it, the words spilling out. “I guess it all started with Jackso
n.” And I tell her everything. About him being an Ancient. The war strategy. What I’ve done, what I plan to do, what I think I’m becoming. She listens with interest, never interrupting. When I finally stop talking, I look over at her. “So…what do you think?”

  “I think I’m sickly jealous that you get to kiss someone as tasty as Jackson and can jump off a blasted tree without dying.” We both break into laughter. It’s dark now, the moon beaming down over us. Gretchen stops laughing, and I’m worried she’s about to run off screaming, but she hugs me tightly. “You’re my best friend, no matter what. Everything will be all right. I’ll help if I can, okay?”

  I nod. “Enough about me. You came looking for me. Is everything okay?” She leans back, aiming for the tree behind her, but slips on the scattered leaves. I catch her moments before her head would have hit the tree. We both freeze.

  “How did you…?” Gretchen starts.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you do other things, too?”

  I shrug, but Gretchen’s face morphs into a sly smile.

  “Let’s see.” She bounces with excitement, but I’m not in the mood to test whatever weirdness exists within me.

  She picks up a rock from beside her and tosses it in the air again and again, then eyes me, preparing to toss the rock behind me. I don’t know why I move, but something inside me wants to prove that I can stop the rock from sailing into the air. The rock leaves her hand one second, and in the next, it’s in my hand. I moved, I felt my arm move, yet my reflex responded faster than I could process what I wanted to do, like an inane muscle response. I stare down at the rock, feeling more confused than ever. I’m faster than before, have quicker reflexes, but I wonder if I can do the one thing that separates humans from Ancients.

  I flip the rock around in my hand until I find a sharp edge, and then I slice it over my forearm. Blood trickles down the sides of my arm.

  “Ari, what in the world?”

  “Just wait,” I say, staring at the wound, but nothing happens. It continues to bleed more and more, never healing as the Ancient in the water chamber healed. A sense of disappointment washes over me. I don’t know why I hoped it would work, but I guess I would rather be all of one species than part of two. I must have very little xylem in me or the cut would have healed.

  Gretchen pulls my arm from me and wraps her jacket around it. “Come on, you need to get home and get some healing gel on it.”

  I sigh. “Thanks. And thanks for not thinking I’m a freak.”

  “Who said I didn’t?” she says with a smile as she loops her arm into my other arm. “Let’s get you home. I don’t want to risk being your first sacrifice or something.”

  A few minutes later, I slip into my house, listening for either of my parents, but all I hear is the eerie hum of silence. I contemplate calling them, but instead head up to my room, thankful for the peace. My body is exhausted in every way, and my face is still puffy from crying. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to let it all out, and now all I want to do is crawl into bed and forget about everything for one night.

  My room is dark when I step inside, yet I’m somehow able to see or at least sense everything around me. I tell myself it’s because it’s my room, but inside I can’t help wondering if it’s yet another change. I reach my bathroom, clean the cut, and then coat it in healing gel, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. I ease closer until my eyes shine back at me, their color previously the same emerald green of my mom’s but now a deep blue-green. Amazing. I step back into my room, feeling both uneasy and elated.

  “Ari?” Jackson calls from my window, startling me.

  “Hi,” I say.

  He walks over, taking my arm, his face crinkled in concern. “What happened?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I was just being stupid. I thought I could… It’s stupid.” I hesitate and then add, “I waited for you.”

  “I know; I’m sorry,” he says, sitting beside me on the bed. “I was called back to Loge. Is everything okay?”

  I look down. “No, not really. They’re planning to use an airborne tactic, something that prevents xylem from healing you. There was this Ancient; they called him Ryden. He asked for my help. That’s why I called you.” My eyes train on his. “I want to go back to release him.”

  “Ryden is dead.”

  My chest constricts. They killed him. No, I let him die. I swallow my sadness, anger overcoming all other emotions. “We have to do something. Enough talking. We have to act.” I detail every moment that I spent in the lab and wait as Jackson processes everything I’ve told him. He leans against my headboard and wraps his hand around his neck.

  “Is that all?” he asks.

  I draw a long breath. I can’t tell him about Gretchen, though maybe he already knows. “No, that’s not all. I climbed to the top of an oak tree and dove off.” I expect him to jump up or act surprised or something, but instead he just nods. “Tell me what’s happening to me,” I say.

  “What’s happening to you is me. I did this to you. I understand if you hate me, if you never want to see me again. I’m not proud of what I did. I couldn’t… You were… I’m so sorry.” His eyes plead with me to forgive him.

  “What did you do?”

  “The day of the explosion at school. You were screaming. You were in so much pain. I… Lawrence said… No, it was my decision—”

  “Just tell me.”

  “I healed you, and not like the tiny healings I did when you were little that have no consequences. A full healing. And do you remember what I told you about xylem?”

  “It multiplies,” I say, my words almost a whisper. I stare out into my room, seeing nothing, lost in my thoughts. We sit silently for several minutes, him wrecked with remorse, me with fear.

  “I should go.” He starts to rise, but I grab his arm, our eyes connecting. He must sense what I’m thinking. I don’t want to worry any longer. He lies beside me, our faces inches apart. “Or maybe I’ll stay.” He kisses my lips and cheeks and neck, filling my body with warmth.

  I maneuver on top of him. My body takes over, all restraint gone, all thoughts of anything but us vanishing from my mind. His hands move into my hair, down my back, farther and farther. I wiggle a hand under his shirt, tracing lines on his stomach, and ease off his shirt. He does the same for mine so we’re bare chest to bare chest, our breath heavy. Then, suddenly, he sits up, pushing me back until I’m straddling his waist. “You’ve had a hard day. We shouldn’t…” He shifts in the bed, reaches for his shirt, and hands me mine. I slip it on but keep my eyes on him.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He rakes a hand through his hair and looks up at me, seeming conflicted, then he says, “Come take a walk with me.”

  “Now?”

  He slips out of bed and holds out his hand for me. “I have a surprise for you.”

  A minute later we’re in the forest, crunching down the trail, the moonlight as our guide. It’s a full yellow moon—unrealistic-looking and so big I want to reach out to it. Jackson takes my hand and I slow my pace. It’s electrifying being here with him with no one else to see.

  He pulls me to him. We walk the rest of the way to the Unity Tree wrapped in each other’s arms. I feel sliced in half, cut by guilt. My loyalties are to my dad, to my family, my people. It’s who I am, the kind of person I want to be. Dad’s disappointed face swirls through my mind. I divulged information to the enemy, information that may prevent a war.

  We reach the Unity Tree in silence. Jackson likely heard my thoughts, but he doesn’t say anything. He walks around the tree and brings back a large basket. I study it. “What’s that?”

  He grins. “It’s a picnic basket. I thought you could use a distraction.”

  “A what basket?”

  “Picnic. Haven’t you ever heard of picnics?” He opens the basket, pulling out a small blanket, and lays it on the ground in front of the tree. I eye it and then him and then lie down on the blanket. He breaks i
nto hysterics, laughter echoing through the woods. “You don’t lay on it. You sit on it and eat.”

  “You want me to eat in the middle of the night on this”—I glance at the blanket—“crisscross blanket.”

  He laughs again, this time fighting for breath. “It’s called plaid. And this is all human stuff you should know.”

  “Whatever. Do you know my parents?” I say sarcastically. “I can just see Dad now, sitting on the ground, eating a— Where is this food you speak of?”

  “In here.” He motions to the basket and takes out all kinds of food. “Do you like it? I mean, we don’t have to eat. I just thought…”

  “No, it’s perfect. I love picnics, do them all the time. Let’s eat.”

  He smiles again and sets everything out.

  A bright red strawberry catches my eye and I pick it up to take a bite.

  “How do you know about this stuff?” I ask.

  “We’re required to learn your history. I am more than others. It’s drilled into my mind on a constant, daily basis. What happened and when and why. You can’t imagine how frustrating it is to be expected to know so much in so little time.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Have you met my father?”

  “I retract previous statement. Let’s talk about something else,” he says, tilting his glass back to take a drink.

  “Yes, tell me about your family.”

  Jackson chokes, coughing and hacking.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, sorry I…” He moves a strand of hair from my face and kisses me. I wrap my legs around his waist and look at him.

  “Can I…touch you?” I ask.

  “Touch me? Where?” He grins.

  I pretend-punch his chest. “Not like that. I just want to…” I trace my fingers down the sides of his face, forming lines on his cheeks, down his neck, smoothing my hands over his shoulders and arms. He leans back on his elbows, and I loosen his shirt, exposing the contours of his toned chest. He’s so perfect; it’s unbelievable that anyone could be this perfect.